


Vision, Reflected

by ambiguously



Category: Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Guilt, M/M, No Dialogue, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-30 08:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8525140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously
Summary: Luke was reaching the age when boys became young men, and young men became restless.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karyatid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karyatid/gifts).



Obi-Wan cultivated his reputation with patience and care. Mad Old Ben Kenobi kept himself to himself, living out where the Sand People roamed, just another veteran scraping by as a cantankerous hermit on the edges of a planet no one cared about. A hermit could spend weeks hunting down clues of surviving Jedi with no one the wiser for his absence. Most of his searches came up empty, or worse, ended at a grave. He returned to Tatooine with a greater sense of loss, and this sorrow added to his aloof identity.

He spent years in this fashion, off world as often as on, relying on Beru for reports of how Luke grew and thrived. No mother could be more proud when he took his first step, when he spoke, when he went to school, and her pride shone through the dullest report. To Obi-Wan's eyes, he grew in spurts, sudden as rain, and just as welcome now that the last rumors of survivors had dried up.

On a day like most others, his supplies were in need of restocking, and he made his way to Tosche Station for food and fuel. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light inside, he saw Anakin's double sitting with friends, chatting about their T-16s. His heart froze.

Two years had passed since last he'd seen the boy. Beru's notes had slowed to one every several months, and he suspected her husband would prefer she not contact Ben Kenobi at all. Luke was reaching the age when boys became young men, and young men became restless. Owen would remember those days, and would remember what happened to Anakin. He would want to protect the boy he loved as his own son from making the same mistakes his brother had.

Anakin had been restless, and reckless, and more, and a youth who wore his face and had his smile just laughed at something that Darklighter boy said.

Obi-Wan didn't drink much but found bars useful to make contacts and collect information. He ordered something for an excuse to linger, listening to the conversation and watching the group with calculated disinterest. Luke was the most animated, eager to show off yet happy to listen when someone else threw in a boast. They would race the Canyon. No, they would Thread the Needle. Excitement radiated from his young face, muted by a kindness Anakin had never quite achieved.

The drink arrived, the harsh taste burning his tongue like kisses he never stole.

If Qui-Gon had lived, everything would have been different. Obi-Wan would have passed his trial and taken on his role as Jedi Knight. He would have taken some time before choosing a Padawan suited to him rather than leaping with eyes closed into a decision made out of grief. A Master was the closest thing to a parent a Padawan knew, except Anakin remembered his mother, and Obi-Wan considered himself more a brother to the boy. Had Qui-Gon survived, they would have shared the same unorthodox father, and Obi-Wan would not have felt so great a guilt for the emotion he'd felt for Anakin as he'd grown into a striking if frustrating young man. He'd never acted upon those feelings, for both their sakes, but he never forgot them, either.

Luke laughed again, and it was a clear, good laugh, free of the resentments Anakin bore with him. The Dark Side had sharp fingers inside Anakin's soul for years before evil tore him apart. Luke never spent a day in his life under its shadowed sway.

Obi-Wan finished his drink with a painful gulp. He couldn't stay here longer.

The next time he saw Luke, the boy was practically on his doorstep. A premonition jarred his meditation: Sand People, Luke injured, two droids he was sure he remembered from long ago, a girl whose face he nearly recognized, and Vader striking towards Obi-Wan with deadly aim. As he blinked away the vision and hurried to help, he instead found Luke, completely fine and entirely alone, standing with a bulky package. A gift from his aunt, he explained, curiosity coloring the explanation.

A hermit would grouse at him and send him home. Obi-Wan invited him inside. There was something he'd been keeping for Luke, he said.

Stories of Anakin were enough to crack his heart all over again, but they were the one thing Luke was parched for, drinking down every edited detail. Anakin was a great pilot. Anakin was gifted in the Force. Anakin was a good friend, his best friend. His chosen words had no room for fire, for blood, for the bodies of younglings littering the temple floor with an unholy sacrifice made in Padmé's horrified name. Luke's bright face didn't dim, not once, and Obi-Wan was glad for his own lies.

Come back again whenever you like, he said, sending Luke home before dusk.

Qui-Gon's spirit had long since stopped its irregular visits. There was nothing they had to say to one another tonight that would not have damned Obi-Wan with his honesty. Anakin was lost and mad, and they'd failed him without trying. Luke was fresh and optimistic and full of promise. It had been a long time since Obi-Wan had felt anything but grief.

The boy visited a few days later, peppering him with questions about his father. Obi-Wan gave him the answers he could bear, and offered lessons in the use of the old lightsaber. Luke accepted both, knowing he'd have to hide the tutoring from his uncle, planning how to break away. The restlessness could be tamed by a new task for a while. He still wanted to fly. He still wanted to head off to the Academy, following another boy. He wanted and wanted, just as his father had. But Obi-Wan swore to himself he wouldn't make the mistakes he did with Anakin. Not again.

A true Padawan would have been trained every day, living with his Master and learning the ways of the living Force, but that was long ago. By the end of things, even the young apprentices were sent to fight in a war none of them should have entered. Every Jedi a General. Every Padawan a soldier, many just as young as the quick-aged clones beside them. The old ways and the older ways were both lost. Luke learned in shifts, sometimes days at a stretch, sometimes weeks between. Obi-Wan taught him, and smiled when he did well, and hid his hopes like a candle's flame sheltered by his hand from the wind. Luke was not Anakin. Luke would not be Anakin.

He'd never kissed Anakin. Luke's mouth was quick and shy, celebrating a good day before backing off with an unnecessary apology. Excitement, he hemmed. High spirits, he hawed. Completely normal, Obi-Wan consoled. Common back in the day, he lied. Luke left without a second kiss, and Obi-Wan was too fretful to meditate or sleep, feeling the ghostly eyes of one who no longer spoke to him.

Attachment was dangerous, but connection was permitted. There had been Jedi who took solace in one another. Some Masters chose a more physical role with their older Padawans. Obi-Wan had wondered more than once about Anakin's strange relationship with his own lovely apprentice, although Padmé's confession explained much about his friend's odd behaviors. He had a hidden wife. Obi-Wan doubted Anakin was sleeping with Ahsoka as well.

It wasn't unheard of. It wasn't forbidden. It wasn't wrong.

Luke improved in his lightsaber form as the weeks went by, his muscles learning control. He was still too eager, too ready for tales of adventure and for a chance at his own. Jedi training required calm, and a mind at peace with its own situation. Luke wanted to fly away. Obi-Wan wanted to hold him here, safe from the dangers he didn't understand. Owen thought he'd lead Luke away on some damn fool crusade, but Obi-Wan had lived through those and all the souls he'd loved had not. He'd had enough of crusades.

Another argument with his uncle brought Luke to Obi-Wan's home too late in the evening to risk the journey home. The small commlink he kept for emergencies sufficed to send a message to the Lars homestead and ease their worries for their boy's safety. His own worries bore no repeating.

His aunt understood him, Luke said over dinner, but his uncle wanted him to stay here forever and be a farmer just like him. Owen was an honest and decent man who wanted to protect Luke and keep him safe, Obi-Wan assured him. Safe was dull, Luke replied, and his eyes were unquiet as he peeked through the window to search for distant, lonely stars.

Safe worried, knowing the shape of the path ahead. Safe put Luke into a made-up bed on the floor with an admonition to sleep. Safe set Anakin's old lightsaber beside his own bed to stand guard as a bleak reminder of what could be lost. Safe sent out a call to Qui-Gon's wandering ghost, begging his chaperone.

Safe slept.

Luke came to Obi-Wan's bed, waking him with another kiss.

He'd spent nights in communion with Anakin, mind touching embittered mind, but they'd slept apart, even when sharing a blanket for warmth. He'd loved him in every way and had never once been his lover. He could not help but wonder now, reveling in his discovery of Luke's skin and in the taste of his body, if time itself would have cracked and changed had he given in to his own desire back then.

Morning brought questions, explanations, fears, all of which were swept away by the sunny smile beside him and a request for breakfast before he offered Obi-Wan another kiss.

Breakfast was delayed.

Luke went home soon after, not with excuses but with a promise to return when he could. Alone with his own thoughts, Obi-Wan revolved over all the mistakes in his life, and the mistakes he might be making now. He wouldn't hurt the boy. He could never hurt this boy. He loved him, had loved him from the moment he was born.

Two days passed, then four. Luke may have argued with his uncle again, or may have offered his dutiful labor without protest as apology for running off. He was alive. Obi-Wan could feel his presence, bright as another sun, warm to consider during the freezing nights.

He would train Luke in his powers, hiding him on this world until he had mastery of his talent. He would explain to Owen if he must, although surely he knew as Beru did that Luke was destined for greater things. He would repair his mistakes from long ago, as he'd always intended. He would stand with Luke at the end against Anakin and his puppet master, and they would bring him home or take him down. He would love Luke, as a brother and a son and a man.

Obi-Wan swore these things, and he knew his old Master heard.

On the seventh day, the droids came, two metallic friends from the past, bearing a message from the second child he'd hidden away, and he knew the time had come.


End file.
